


Got caught in the ruse of the world (Lucky13 #8)

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A game of truth or dare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got caught in the ruse of the world (Lucky13 #8)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nenne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenne/gifts).



> Trope: 'truth or dare' for nenne. Title from 'Truth is a Whisper' by The Goo Goo Dolls.

Harry rinsed the cloth with which he'd cleaned himself under the running water of the face-basin and wrung it out. He glanced at himself in the mirror.

The mirror murmured, "Oh, look at _you_ ," in a very salacious manner and Harry rolled his eyes. He could very well see himself, couldn't he? His hair was a mess...well, more so than usual. His eyes, which he'd always thought were too large for his narrow face and bugged out a bit, seemed to stare even more, as if he'd gotten a fright. A few rounded red circles bloomed on his neck and chest.

He knew a few spells that would have cleaned the sweat and spunk from his skin without escaping to the bathroom, but he'd needed a few moments just to _breathe_. The sex just now had been a little too intense; he'd been licked and fucked and sucked as if it was the last time anyone would do this to him. At one point, he found himself a sobbing, shuddering mess, shoving at the hands which reached for him. Any more stimulation and he felt as if he would have been blown to bits.

"Just breathe," he told his startled reflection and inhaled deeply. As he exhaled, he felt some of the electric tension dissipate, fading from where it had been snapping along his bones. He hung the washcloth over a small hook by the shower and then opened the door which led to the bedroom, walking out. Every step caused a twinge in his arse, but it wasn't too painful. It was actually kind of nice to experience that sensation.

The light from the bathroom fell in a yellow square across the bed, for the room was small and Harry liked it that way. Malfoy lay in his bed, a long stretch of pale skin over taut muscle, the covers piled just over his hips. He rested against the pillows with his arms behind his head, face turned away from Harry. The air in the room shimmered with the effects of a cleansing spell.

"Um," Harry said, quite eloquently and Malfoy turned to look to look at him. His hair, longer than Harry had ever seen it, fell from a part in the middle of his head and tumbled loose over his shoulders. Before Harry's fingers had been tangled in it, his hair had been caught up in a platinum plait at the nape of his neck. 

He lay there for a few beats, just looking up at Harry with an unreadable expression. Then he shifted, moving his hands as he sat up. In the gloom, Harry could just make out the dark spread of ink on his left forearm.

"Do you want me to leave?" Malfoy asked, tucking his hair behind his ears and looking around for his clothes before waiting for the answer. 

Harry said, "No, stay. If you want."

Malfoy glanced up and then nodded. He didn't smile, but he didn't seem particularly put out, either. He shuffled over and Harry noticed that the covers had been cleaned and dried. He slipped underneath it and they both lay there side by side, listening to the music thumping from downstairs.

Harry licked his lips, staring up at his ceiling. Should he start up a conversation? A few moments ago, he'd been writhing underneath Malfoy, his legs wrapped around the other man's waist as Malfoy pounded into him. He'd been talking then, that was for sure…. moaning, mostly, and now he could hardly say a word.

"Nice party," Malfoy said from the other side of the bed and Harry nearly melted in relief. 

"Yeah," he answered, turning over on his side and going up on one elbow. "Ron always puts on the best parties, I find."

They went quiet again, Harry casting about mentally for something else to say. He couldn't bloody well ask how Malfoy had shown up at this party; when they'd been talking earlier, Malfoy had mentioned that it had been George who'd invited him. _George_ , who, when he chose to communicate, spoke with spaces between his phrases as if he expected someone else to fill them in (and made a conversation a bit odd to participate in, at times).

"The theme's nice," Malfoy observed, rolling over to face Harry. "'Back to School'. I have to say, I was pretty gratified to find I could still fit in my Quidditch gear."

"You're not the only one who was gratified over that," Harry's mouth let out before his brain could censor it. Malfoy smiled, dipping his head so that he didn't meet Harry's gaze.

"They're probably down there playing games like Spin the Bottle or something," Harry said before he could continue to embarrass himself. "And not just because it's a Hogwarts theme, Ron always demands games like that."

"Oh." Malfoy's lips twitched in a small smile. "We should keep the tradition going, then. Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Harry answered automatically and then wrinkled his nose, exasperated at himself. He always choose _truth_ , but he surely he could be more daring with Malfoy in his bed. Malfoy, with that hair and those eyes and that body. Still everyone's favourite bad boy, though he'd been working for quite some time at Gringotts without a hint of trouble, managing accounts with the kind of razor-edged attention that even goblins could appreciate.

Malfoy, however, seemed content with Harry's choice. "Why did you say yes when I asked you to dance earlier?"

Harry had learned, when playing this game as a student, that Truth or Dare for a witch or wizard was quite different from Truth or Dare for a Muggle. It was actually old magic, _deep_ magic: a reflexive natural charm forming a temporary covenant. Magical folk nowadays treated it just as lightly as Muggles treated their version of the game; however, Harry had been subjected to a long lecture by Hermione, explaining how the original incarnation, _quaerere et commendare_ , had been used during trials and the settling of disagreements. If the truth wasn't shared, the punishment in the form of the command would be swift and harsh, inflicted by the liar on their own person.

Every magical person could sense the tingle of the _quaerere_ spell; not as harsh or as certain as Veritaserum, but rising from the elements to bind the asker to their understanding of the truth. If Harry told an outright lie, Malfoy probably wouldn't know it; but Harry, as a mostly truthful person, would be compelled to ask for the dare.

When Harry had asked why this wasn't used these days when interrogating suspects, Hermione had shrugged.

"There are ways of telling the truth without telling the truth, right?" she'd answered. "And if the person asking is a friend or a lover, then the _commendare_ won't be anything serious. That's why Veritaserum was invented. More direct, you see?" She pursed her lips. "And it's a sight more humane that making people slice off bits of themselves if they didn't tell the truth."

" _Cut_ themselves?" Harry had felt a little ill at that and Hermione had nodded, moving on rapidly to another lecture on knives in magical culture. She'd stopped when Harry had gazed narrowly at her, his lips pressed tightly together.

Now, he considered Malfoy's question as the _quaerere_ gently nudged him. "Because you asked," he said and the tingling sensation in the back of his head subsided.

Malfoy stared at him for a few beats, obviously expecting Harry to retract that and ask for the dare. "Because I asked," he repeated after a moment, eyebrows canted at a curious angle. "Really?"

"Well, not a lot of people ask me to dance at these things," Harry admitted. "Not sure why. And then you struck up a conversation first, so it was easy to say yes when you asked."

"Ah." Malfoy nodded, and slid a little closer to Harry. His hand slid up onto Harry's hip, thumb rubbing a small circle into Harry's skin. It was a very hesitant touch, considering the fact that he'd used those same fingers to open up Harry for his prick, stroking inside him until Harry could hardly think.

"Truth or Dare," Harry challenged and felt the light touch of _quaerere et commendare_ floating out from his magic. It was interesting that this command, being deep magic, didn't need a wand.

"Truth," Malfoy said, his thumb still moving in a slow circuit. His gaze fixed on Harry's face in a direct manner, and Harry felt his skin warm.

 _Why did you say yes when I asked you to come upstairs with me_ , was what he wanted to say, but what came out was, "What did you do with your Mark?"

Malfoy stilled. He didn't move, but it felt as if he shifted back away from Harry; at least five miles. Harry reached down and touched the fingers which had stilled on his hip, stroking them lightly.

"Sorry," he said. "I'll go to the dare bit, if you--"

"I covered it over with runes," Malfoy answered, his voice rough for the first few syllables. "To remind me of…" he trailed off and Harry waited. "Just to remind me," he finished and closed his eyes.His expression hardened and for a moment he looked like the sullen, nasty teenager he had been.

"I like it," Harry said, and he did. Malfoy had an intricate pattern of doubled circles woven over the ruined flesh where the mark had been, the spiky lettering of the runes nestled between the curves. Malfoy opened his eyes again.

"Truth or Dare," he murmured, but his tone was cool and distant. Harry felt his heart sink; he'd made a right mess of this. He moved right against Malfoy, sliding one arm over his waist and tangling their legs together.

"Dare," he whispered and pressed a quick kiss to the sharp line of Malfoy's lips. "Dare," he repeated, rubbing up against him with long, rolling arches. Malfoy held himself rigidly for a few moments, and then he melted against Harry's body even as his cock began to harden against Harry's thigh. I'll do anything he asks, Harry realised with a dawning wonder. _Anything at all_.

Malfoy pressed him back against the pillows, sliding over him. Harry parted his legs and ran his fingers through the long, pale hair that tickled his face and neck.

Malfoy stopped and sat back, glancing at his pile of clothes on the floor. Harry blinked, hazy with want; the cool air rushing between their bodies helped to clear his head a little.

"Wait, sorry," Malfoy said as he rolled off Harry and got off the bed, snatching up the green Quidditch cape. He pulled out his wand out of a pocket: it was flashing a soft, pearly light and buzzing gently. Malfoy sighed. "I have to go."

"Oh...alright." Harry watched as he dressed, silently lamenting his own utter lack of suave. He should ask Malfoy out, he should...he didn't even _know_ what he should do and he'd just had sex with the man.

Malfoy pulled on his fingerless gloves and asked, "Can I apparate from anywhere in here?"

"The balcony," Harry told him. "The wards stop at the wall. Just stand near the door, though, so no one on the road will spot you."

"Thanks." Malfoy headed for the balcony and then stopped; Harry sat up, staring hopefully at the broad line of his shoulders. Malfoy took another step and then spun on his heel.

"I dare you to have dinner with me tomorrow evening, Potter," he said. He didn't say _Potter_ the way he used to say it, laced with mockery and disdain. Instead, Harry's name sounded careful as it brushed past his lips.

Harry smiled; it was all he could do.

_fin_


End file.
